


When Demons Dance

by BluePower24



Series: Troubled Mind [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asperger Syndrome, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Lexa, Comfort, Depression, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 12:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17324999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluePower24/pseuds/BluePower24
Summary: When the demons dance in her mind, Clarke is there. And she doesn't speak.





	When Demons Dance

**Author's Note:**

> This will be the last one before a hiatus. I'm trying to write what went down during New Year, on top of having a group project to finish, a presentation and 6 exams... College life is tough :)  
> So yeah, I'll have my plate full for a while.

** Clarke’s POV **

The room is dark and silent, except for Lexa’s soft sobs. She’s curled up under a nest of blankets on the bed, hiding from the world. And despite being alone, she still tries to tame her whimpers. Still tries to make herself as quiet and small as possible. Still tries to disappear.

Sighing, I close the door behind me. She hasn’t noticed my presence yet, so I pace quietly and sit beside the lump of blankets. The sobs subside. I don’t say anything.

I wait patiently, in silence, until the blankets move. Slowly, inch by inch, Lexa closer until her head peeks from under the blankets. I try to not look directly at her. She hates it when I make a deal out of her bad days. But I can feel her looking at me.

She hesitantly lays her still tear streaked cheek on my lap, and I realize she’s shaking. My heart breaks just a little beat. I hate to say that I’m used to this. I hate that Lexa goes through this. But I do my best to make sure she doesn’t go through it alone. Carefully, I thread my fingers though her hair in a comforting gesture, and I feel her relaxing slightly.

We stay like this for a while, hours maybe, in silence. I know better than to try to coerce any words out of her. She’ll speak when she’s ready. In the meantime, this is the best I can do. Whenever the demons in Lexa’s head break free and dance around her mind, I could say a plethora of things. From _“It’s not real, it’s all in your head, you’re ok.”_ to _“I’m here, you’re not alone.”_ but I know she doesn’t want, nor needs, to hear any of that. So, I show her that she will be ok, and that she’s not, in fact, alone. I give her my silent support and trust that she will talk to me in time. 

 

** Lexa’s POV **

She doesn’t understand me, not entirely, but that’s ok. She doesn’t have to because, differently from most people, she doesn’t just label me as crazy and throws me away like a broken thing. She’s more like the person who would sit patiently and carefully put the pieces back together. Although I know I can’t be fixed, she makes an effort.

Sometimes, I think she, herself, is a little mad. Afterall, who, in their sane state, would voluntarily waste their time with me? Try to keep me from falling apart? Take care of me? But then again, what do I know about sane?

But fact is that she’s there. She’s always there when I need her. When I can’t ask for help, she somehow knows I need it. When I refuse it, she stays anyway. No matter how tongue tied and ashamed I am. When my thoughts go wild and become too much for me to handle. When words jiggle in my mind and don’t come out, she’s there.

And so, when I manage to choke out a half-formed sentence, hitting my own head in frustration, she knows what I mean. She takes my hands in hers and kisses my forehead. It’s soft and calming. She doesn’t speak, but she doesn’t need to. I can feel her words. _“I’m here, you’re not alone. Your mind is not damaged.”_ I could laugh at that last one, if my lungs weren’t burning from all that crying.

But it’s ok. I know I will survive this because she’s here, and she won’t leave me alone. I don’t know why she stays. It’s one of those things that I can’t explain, I just know, and for that I’m greatly thankful.

I don’t know what I would do without her.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, about this one... Sadly, I to deal with chronic depression from time to time. I never know how to explain my experience during those times, but I'll try:
> 
> When I'm having a - let's call it - bad day, my mind rages with negativity. This has 2 main physical consequences:  
> 1) I become more susceptible to sensorial overloads;  
> 2) Because my mind is literally a mess, I take longer to form words and phrases.
> 
> During those times, the last thing I want to hear are the generic 'Everything is going to be alright.' Much less do I want to 'talk about it' because it only causes more stress to my brain. I just want silence.
> 
> So that's done. I didn't what to get too deep in the 'depression' conversation because that deserves its own topic, but I'll probably come back to it in the future  
> Until next time! :)


End file.
